Silent Hill Reminiscence: Detective Cartland
by GlaringEyes
Summary: Pre-SH3 events. Private Investigator Douglas Cartland starts an investigation in the town of Silent Hill after a distressed parent claimed his son and daughter-in-law had gone missing there. COMPLETE!
1. Case Taken

**In SH3, Douglas mentioned to Heather that he had already been to Silent Hill once. He suggested a missing person's case, whom is hinted to be James Sunderland (from SH2), given the usual references to the previous games. It could have been Eddie too, just like any other missing person, but most likely James. So I thought of writing this fic, set before the events of SH3, depicting Douglas' investigation to find out James' whereabouts. Hope it is enjoyed.**

**This is the first of a series of short stories featuring some SH characters who might have crossed paths prior to the games events. The other stories may be found in my profile, as they are released.**

**I do not own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami.**

I will use the following typing standards:

"Normal speech"

'Inner thoughts'

"YELLING!"

_Flashbacks, written passages_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 01 – CASE TAKEN<strong>

Southern district of Ashfield. That was the destination a run-down gray Chevy was heading to. The driver, a man in his fifties, with short gray hair and a stubble, looked equally run-down. Private Detective Douglas Cartland had been driving for a good bunch of hours just to go there. Apparently someone had called, claiming to have a case for him. Certainly it wasn't pleasant to drive such a long distance only to get some work done, but, considering how things have been, Douglas couldn't afford to be picky about his customers. In fact, he was thankful for his decision of putting his professional number on the Ashfield phone list.

Life hasn't been easy on him ever since his early retirement from the police force years ago. The following divorce, the gradual impoverishment... all those events had taken their toll on the old man's mind. But nothing compared to the ultimate coup de grace: the death of his only son. Deeply grieved by the tragedy, it was then that Douglas realized he had hit rock bottom and bravely decided to turn things for better. Using the skills he had acquired in the police, Douglas became a private investigator.

Of course, things weren't expected to be that simple either. Being a P.I. was a tough job. Working long hours in order to solve a single case wasn't uncommon and, many times, the lack of clients forced him to take cases outside his town's borders. And that was exactly what he was doing now: following the demand for his services to Ashfield.

Douglas took another glance at the written down address of his customer, while attempting to drive through the town's busy streets. Eventually he stopped at a traffic light, taking a moment to look around. To his left, there was what seemed a subway station entrance. It read '_South Ashfield Station_' on the sign above. The former cop recalled his customer telling that the address was just across that station, so he concluded his destination was close.

Suddenly, he noticed someone coming out of said station. A beautiful young woman, with chin-length black hair, her facial features indicating she was of Latin heritage. But what drew his attention the most was her business there. Judging by the skimpy and revealing red top she wore, and the teasing way she walked, anyone could have guessed what that girl probably did for a living.

'Good Lord, what's this world turning into?' mused Douglas, shaking his head. That girl looked young enough to be his daughter and there she was, doing this sort of thing out in broad daylight. He couldn't help but acting a bit moralist in this situation. It was a cop thing, and old habits died hard. Anyway, the traffic light had opened, so he simply brushed these thoughts off and proceeded on his journey.

Just a few yards further and he finally arrived at South Ashfield Heights, a three-floored apartment block. After pulling into the estate's parking, Douglas put on his brown trench coat and hat (a look he always used whenever meeting clients), and stepped out of the car. Before entering though, he spared a few minutes to scrutinize the building in front of him. From his years in the police, the detective was aware that South Ashfield wasn't exactly the American Dream's neighborhood. Especially this part of the town, where many people with dubious pasts lived, from illegal immigrants to former convicts, some still on probation. He just hoped nobody there knew that he used to be an officer, otherwise this case would certainly prove difficult to handle.

Entering through the front door, Douglas found himself in the lobby area. He went straight to one of the hallways in the first floor, searching for his client's room. At last, he knocked on a specific door labeled with the number 105, a few seconds passing until approaching steps were heard beyond it.

A tall, white-haired man answered the door. He seemed quite old, even older than Douglas. Despite that, he still appeared quite healthy, although a faint trait of depression could be figured out on his expression.

"Mr. Sunderland?" the investigator said. "I'm Detective Douglas Cartland. We've talked on the phone."

"Oh, indeed." The older man recognized. "I've been expecting you. Please come in."

He stepped aside to let the detective in, closing the door afterwards. Douglas headed to the living room, right across the entrance, settling himself on a green couch at the coffee table. His host followed after, sitting on the armchair across the couch.

"So, Mr. Sunderland..." Douglas started.

"Just Frank." The other man corrected. He was never one for formality.

"Alright. Frank, what is this case you wanted me to investigate?"

"Well, it's..." Frank had begun, but got suddenly interrupted by knocks on his door. "Excuse me for an instant." He said, standing up.

As the other man walked to the door, Douglas started smelling something. Some foul odor, resembling rotten meat. Tracing the scent, he pinpointed it to the shelf next to him. What would it be, the former cop had no idea. Maybe a dead rat behind the furniture. His nose twitched a little in disgust, but he decided to ignore it, since pointing it out to his host would be rude.

His eyes moved to the door, as Frank opened it. A young and gorgeous female brunette stood there, dressed in a pink-and-white striped top and denim shorts.

"Good afternoon, Frank," the girl greeted, before realizing the other man sat at the living room. "Oh, sorry. You have company now?"

"It's fine, Eileen," Frank kindly assured, holding his hand up. "Wish something?"

The girl produced an envelope out of her pocket and handed it over to the older man. "Just wanted to pay this month's rent."

"Okay, thank you. I'll make your receipt." Frank took the envelope and turned around to get his paper pad. After he was done, he gave the receipt to Eileen.

"Thanks. Have a nice day, Frank." She parted, giving to Douglas a polite smile on the way out, to which he nodded in reply.

Closing the door, Frank returned to his armchair. "Sorry for the interruption. I work as the superintendent here and today's rent day."

"No problem," the bearded man said. "Now, you were saying about the case..."

"Oh, yes... the case," the superintendent spoke, reaching out his arm to get an aged portrait frame off the shelf, passing it to Douglas next. "I want you to find these people."

Douglas gazed at the picture in the frame. Two people were shown on it. One was a woman, probably in mid-twenties, with shoulder-length auburn hair, wearing a pink blouse and polka-dotted skirt. Beside the woman, with an affectionate arm around her, there was a man with short, tawny-blond hair, around the same age, sporting an olive jacket. Most likely a love couple.

"Those two," Frank started to explain. "Are my son and my daughter-in-law. Their names are James and Mary."

"What happened to them?"

"They went missing, years ago."

"How exactly missing?" he asked for details.

Frank shifted a bit in the armchair. It was as though he was preparing to tell a long story. "Everything began a few years back, when Mary got severely ill. Not just any illness, but a terminal one. The doctors gave her three years, _bedridden_. From that moment on, their marriage went downhill. The initial shock, the feeling of powerlessness, the pain, the medical expenses... all of it transformed what was once a happy marriage into a miserable one."

In the distressed father's mind, flashed a memory of an occasion when he had accompanied James in a visit to Mary. Those moments shared with his son were very treasured by the old man, as he hadn't spent much time with James ever since he got married, and much less after Mary got sick.

.

_Through the sterile hallways of St Jerome's Hospital, both father and son followed a nurse leading the way to a certain patient's room. She stopped before a door and peeked inside._

"_Mary, your husband is here to see you," she announced, turning to whisper back to the men behind her. "Careful you two. She seems to be more sensitive than before, so watch what you do."_

"_We will. Thanks, Rachel." Frank said to the nurse. Coincidentally or not, Rachel happened to be a tenant in South Ashfield Heights, so the superintendent was acquainted enough to call her by the name._

_As the nurse took her leave, Frank looked over his son. James seemed tense, reluctant to enter the room. In his hand, he carried a bouquet of flowers, a gift for his beloved Mary._

_Finally mustering the courage to enter, James reached the door knob. But before that, he turned to his father. "Uh, Dad. I think you'd better wait out here."_

_The old man raised an eyebrow. "What? But why?"_

"_Well, it's... I..." the younger man stammered, fighting to get the right words._

_Yet Frank just waved his hand dismissively. "That's okay. I understand, son. I'll wait out here," he said, leaning against the wall next to the door. He wasn't sure why his son was so uncomfortable about seeing his very own wife, but he decided not to insist on that. "If you need me, I'll be right here."_

_With a nervous nod, James proceeded to slowly step into the room, closing the door behind him._

"_Mary?" his voice still could be heard on the other side, muffled by the walls._

"_What do you want, James?" Mary's voice was heard next. Her tone, however, made Frank a bit taken aback. It was angry, bitter, almost as if she was annoyed by James' presence._

"_I, uh I brought you some flowers..."_

"_Flowers? I don't want any damn flowers. Just go home already."_

"_Mary, what are you saying?"_

"_Look! I'm disgusting! I don't deserve flowers. Between the disease and the drugs, I look like a monster," she snapped, her tone getting gradually angrier. "Well, what are you looking at? Get the hell out of here. Leave me alone already!_

"_I'm no use to anyone. I'll be dead soon anyway. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow... It'd be easier if they'd just kill me. But I guess the hospital is making a nice profit off me, they want to keep me alive..." she continued, unaware of her father-in-law outside the room. Never had Frank ever heard his caring daughter-in-law uttering such horrible words. Now he could grasp why his son was so hesitant about this visit and why he had told him to wait outside._

"_Are you still here? I told you to go! Are you deaf?! Don't come back!"_

_An awkward silence abruptly fell, the mood was so heavy that it was almost suffocating. Frank felt an utter sense of dread inside his stomach, just as an urge to get in the room and pull his son out of that terrible situation. But he didn't have to, it seemed. Just as he was about to reach for the knob, he heard footsteps inside coming towards the door. At any second, he expected a downcast James to walk out._

_That's when, suddenly, Mary's voice was heard again._

"_James... wait..." she pleaded, the bitterness in her voice replaced by fear. James' footsteps halted at the same instant._

"_Please don't go... Stay with me. Don't leave me alone. I didn't mean what I said," she begged, almost on the verge of crying. "Please James... tell me I'll be okay. Tell me I'm not going to die. Help me..."_

_Finally she broke down into tears._

"_Mary..." James muttered, pity plastered in his voice. Footsteps were heard again, but this time moving away from the door. "Mary, shhh. It's okay. You'll be alright." Frank still could pick up from the conversation, between Mary's sobs. "You'll be alright..."_

.

Douglas realized the saddened expression that formed on Frank's face, but the older man continued anyway. "I remember... all the suffering... that James and Mary had gone through. All the pain... they must have felt.

"James had... really changed, you know. He got depressed, started drinking... even I couldn't recognize him sometimes. There was even one occasion, when I asked him how Mary was doing. He just got mad at me, telling me not to pry into his business..." the superintendent paused a bit to swallow a lump down his throat. "I mean, can't a father ask about his daughter-in-law? I know I wasn't the best father in the world, but even so..."

With a raised hand over his face, now the older man was visibly fighting back tears. It wasn't like Frank to be that emotional in front of strangers, but he couldn't avoid it. Talking about his long missing son always brought back those sore feelings, partly for wanting him back, partly for not having the chance to be in better terms with him before he disappeared.

Detective Cartland, who so far had been listening to everything quietly, seemed most stoic, _externally_. He was there on business, so he had to look professional. Inside, however, he was in great turmoil, struggling not to let any emotions show up. If there was one person who knew what it was like to lose a child, to not realize how important a relationship was until the moment you lose it, that person was him.

He recalled his own memories of his long deceased son. Even now, it was still a rather sensitive subject to touch. Shortly after his retirement, he and his wife had divorced, him keeping custody of their only son. Having to raise a child practically by himself, his life conditions had deteriorated, as his monthly pension barely sufficed for him and his child. Even so, he had hoped things would eventually turn out for better. His son, on the other hand, didn't share of his father's optimism. Tired of that poor life and of putting up with a penny-less dad, the boy had decided at last to take matters into hands. And not in a legal way...

Douglas still recollected of that fateful night when he got a call from the police. Those words still echoed in his head, as though it was yesterday. His son was dead. _Dead_. And worse, not due to any common cause: the boy had been shot while trying to rob a bank, despite all the upbringing his father had given him. In Douglas' mind, almost as painful as his son's death, was the thought that he didn't know him as well as he believed. Sometimes he even questioned himself if he should have ever been a dad to begin with.

After that, Douglas had fallen into depression. The drinking and smoking habits, which he had tried to quit for awhile, returned at full force. Hadn't it been for the help of his police friends, probably he would have sunk deeper in the mud. In the end, he managed to stand back on his feet, and that was when the decision to become a private investigator came. This way, not only he would start making some real money, but also atone for his son's mistakes.

"James told me once," Frank continued, cutting off Douglas' thoughts. "Of this place, called Silent Hill."

"Silent Hill?" the detective spoke for the first time in the discussion. "Wasn't that a resort town? I heard it was shut down."

"Exactly," the other man nodded. "James went there once, prior to its closure, in a honeymoon trip with Mary. He told me how Mary had loved that place, how she always asked him to go back there one day. And it was in one of these occasions that I've last heard of him."

"What do you mean?" Douglas inquired.

Frank took a deep breath. "Not long after that quarrel me and James had..."

.

_The phone rang in Apartment 105 of South Ashfield Heights. It was very early in the morning, so Frank wondered who would be calling at this time._

"_Hello?" he answered the phone._

_A few seconds of silence proceeded before someone spoke on the other side. "Dad..." said a familiar voice._

"_James?" the superintendent recognized, with a worried voice. "Son, what's going on? Why are you calling this early?"_

"_I'm uh... I'm going to Silent Hill."_

_His father found it odd. Not only the sudden trip, yet also the strained tone of his son. "Why, James?"_

"_There's just something I need to do..." that was all Frank could get, prior to the hang up sound and the mute line._

.

"And that was it. That was the last time we talked. Never heard of him ever again." The distressed father sadly sighed, his eyes lowered to the floor.

Meanwhile, Douglas analyzed all that information. "What about his wife Mary? Did he take her with him?"

"Guess so. I've been told that Mary had been permitted to go home, a few days before their disappearance. So, it's presumable they went together. Who knows, like some sort of last wish."

"I see," Then something dawned on Douglas. "Although I must say it was a pretty strange wish. Silent Hill has been long closed to the public ever since the last tourist dropped by."

"Perhaps. Yet, all I still know is that they never returned from Silent Hill." Frank shrugged.

"Have you tried contacting the police about this?" It was a rather stupid question, considering that Douglas wouldn't even be there had the police actually found something. Nevertheless, he needed to ask.

"Of course I did. But they were as clueless as I am about this case. Years have passed and they haven't got even a single lead. I guess, by now, the cops must have just assumed James committed suicide along with Mary and simply closed the case. That's why I came to you, Douglas."

Douglas pondered a little. This case could prove to be more difficult than he anticipated if even the police investigators hadn't found any clues of their whereabouts so far. Being a former cop, he knew that the longer it had passed since the incident, the less likely to be solved. Heck, after a time frame of years, he wasn't even sure if the case would be solved at all. Any crucial leads would have been washed away by then. And the cops' assumption of James committing suicide sounded really plausible. The chances of them still being alive was nearly zero, especially Mary, given she was already a terminal patient in first place.

Nonetheless, his guts told him to take it. If there was any possibility that he would find James and Mary, he must try. He couldn't help but sympathize with Frank, especially regarding his parental issues. Call it fate or anything, but even though he hadn't been able to save his own child, he could still save somebody else's child. And even if he didn't, he would at least bring some rest to a parent's despaired mind. Thus, there was only one answer to be given.

"Very well, Frank. The case's on," Detective Cartland accepted, as he got up and shook hands with Superintendent Sunderland. "I'll find your boy."

* * *

><p><strong><strong>The flashback of James and Mary's argue was inspired on a scene of "Fatherly Instinct" by TheSilentButDeadlyOne, a very interesting SH fanfic I've read. The other flashback of James and Frank's phone call was inspired on a scene of "A Tarnished Photo" by LivingHologram, another very interesting SH fanfic. So I'm giving the authors their rightful credits.<strong>**

****Next chapter, the investigation starts. Expect many game references in this fic.****


	2. Shepherd's Glen

**This chapter holds a close connection to another work of mine, "Meeting of the Fallen". If any of my readers recall it, I'm a firm believer that Mary Shepherd-Sunderland is a family relative of Alex Shepherd, the protagonist of SHH, as I think there are no coincidences in Silent Hill. This issue will be explored further in this chapter.**

**I do not own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 02 – SHEPHERD'S GLEN<strong>

After a few days of investigation, Detective Cartland found nothing of relevance in Ashfield. The first obvious place had been James and Mary's home, but since the police had already combed every inch of that site, if they hadn't found anything new up to the moment, it was unlikely Douglas would. Thus he didn't spend much effort looking there.

Searching for more leads, Douglas thought it was about time to go a bit deeper into this. So, right now, he was driving to a certain town. A town which might hold some sort of bounds to the missing couple, in particular to Mary.

As he drove, the details of the previous conversation he had with Superintendent Sunderland flew through his mind.

"_Besides you, Frank, was James close to anyone else in the family?" Douglas questioned. He was working on the hypothesis that, if James wanted to run away (whatever the reason might be), he would have first attempted to get some relatives' help. From what he was told too, Frank's wife had been long deceased and James was the only son._

"_Not much. To a few cousins and uncles, I guess, but I doubt he would have gone to any of them without me knowing."_

"_And what about the side of his wife's family? Perhaps someone in Mary's family to whom he could have resorted."_

"_Ha," the superintendent snorted, disdain barely concealed. "I pretty much doubt it. Neither James nor Mary were anywhere close to the Shepherds, especially after the marriage."_

"_Really?" the detective said, catching the hint of scorn in Frank's voice. "Her family was against the marriage, I suppose."_

"_Her father and brother were. It's reasonable to say that they didn't like the idea of anyone in the family marrying an 'outsider'."_

"_Outsider?" repeated Douglas, curious. "So Mary's family doesn't hail from here?"_

"_No," he shook his head. "They come from a distant town. Shepherd's Glen, if I recall."_

_Douglas paused to ponder a little. Shepherd's Glen... he had seen this name somewhere. Maybe it was on the road map the had used to drive his way to Ashfield. If there was one thing Douglas could be proud of was his excellent memory, an important trait for a detective. Even so, he strained his brains to remember the exact location. That was when it finally dawned on him._

"_Shepherd's Glen... isn't it that small town at the shore of Toluca Lake, right across Silent Hill?"_

_Frank just nodded, nonchalantly._

_Douglas found it odd that the older man didn't seem to have noticed it sooner. His son and daughter-in-law went missing in Silent Hill. But right across the place, there was another town, from which his daughter-in-law originally hailed. Wouldn't it be obvious that they could either be staying there, or that someone there would at least know of their whereabouts?_

"_Have you tried asking the Shepherds about it?" Douglas asked, as a matter of fact._

"_Didn't need to. The police had questioned them, but, as expected, they claimed not to know a thing about it. Not that they would be much cooperative anyway."_

"_Well, I think I should see them nevertheless. Do you still have their contact?"_

Shepherd's Glen was around half a day's drive from Ashfield. Quite a long journey, but given it was on the way to Silent Hill, it just came in handy. He would have to go there eventually, although Douglas preferred to start off the investigation in a populated town, rather than going straight to a shut down Silent Hill.

Despite Frank's warning that the Shepherd family was a strict and closed circle (and therefore, not fond of 'outsiders'), the detective still thought it was worth a shot. What was the worst it could happen anyway? With luck, maybe, he could even find in Shepherd's Glen the clues he was looking for and avoid altogether stepping into Silent Hill. Abandoned towns weren't exactly the safest places to wander around, unaccompanied. Before resorting to enter there, he wanted to use up all his other resources.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Shepherd's Glen, hours later.<strong>**

According to Frank, Mary's father had been long gone by now, but her brother was currently the town's sheriff. So he headed straight to his workplace: the local police station. As an extra, he had also been warned that her brother was a retired army officer, and a rather tough man to deal with, so the detective would better watch what he said.

Parking in front of a fliers board next to the station, Douglas took a moment to observe the building. A nostalgic thought abruptly hit him. It had been awhile since he'd last visited a police station. Ever since his retirement from the force, actually. Of course, he kept in touch with some of his peers, though their meetings were mostly off-duty or on the phone.

Sometimes, Douglas mused if he did well in retiring so early. Cops usually did so, given that life span wasn't particularly long when you had to deal with criminals and murderers in a daily basis. However, his pension check got significantly cut short as a consequence. And not only that; he missed somehow the law enforcement life. He missed being useful to society in general. Maybe that was one more reason, besides atoning for his son's deeds, he had become a private detective afterwards.

He even recalled a few good friends he had made during and after his working years. One in particular, he remembered quite well: a young lad still in the police academy, who seemed a very promising soon-to-be officer. Even after he retired from the force, Douglas still acted like a mentor figure to many of the rookie cops, with his wise advices and patience. Last time he heard, this young lad had already graduated from the academy and got stationed in a place named Raccoon City. Douglas, however, wondered what happened to Leon after the outbreak that plagued that location not long ago.

Anyway, it wasn't the time to get lost in memories, so the investigator stepped out of the car and entered the station.

The place looked empty. Naturally he didn't expect a small town like Shepherd's Glen to have a large police force, but to just leave the station unattented like that...

"May I help ya, sir?" suddenly spoke a voice off the kitchen.

A tad startled by the voice, Douglas turned to its owner. An African-American policeman stood at the kitchen's door, with shaved head and a cup of coffee in hand, displaying a serious stare.

"Uh yes," the detective answered, walking up to the policeman. "My name is Douglas Cartland, private detective. May I speak with Sheriff Shepherd?"

The dark-skinned man raised an eyebrow. "Ya wanna speak with the boss? What for?"

"It's a private issue. I'd rather discuss it with him personally." Douglas stated, deciding not to bring forth the family subject.

The officer eyed the older man attentively. He didn't seem dangerous, and he probably knew better than attempting anything against a police officer. Thus, he felt it wouldn't hurt to tell him. "The sheriff's not here right now. I think he went home earlier today."

Douglas felt a little frustrated that Mary's brother wasn't at the station. After all, he had traveled all the way to this town and yet he couldn't find him. Nevertheless, he didn't want to leave empty-handed, so he risked asking. "Can you tell me where the sheriff lives? It's a very important matter."

"Sorry," said the policeman, dismissively, passing by the investigator and heading to his desk. "I can't give this kinda information. If ya really need to talk to him, come back tomorrow."

"I know I'm asking a bit too much, but as I said, it's urgent." Douglas insisted. "If you want, I can leave my ID here, as a guarantee."

"Sir, I think ya didn't get what I mean. I've never seen ya around, so I can't give the sheriff's address to some random stranger who just waltzed in the station."

"Fine, then." Douglas fetched his car keys out of his coat pocket. "My car is just parked out there. It's my only means of transportation here. If it makes you feel safer, I'll leave the keys with you. Please uh... Officer Wheeler." He pleaded, glancing at the officer's name on the plate over his desk.

Wheeler sighed in annoyance. That old man was really bent on talking to his boss. In the end, he would eventually end up finding the sheriff's address by himself. This was a pretty small town and, therefore, it shouldn't be that hard. So, it'd be better if he simply accepted the deal. At least, this way, he would keep the car as a guarantee that the so-called detective wouldn't escape in case he did something.

After writing down the address on a piece of paper, Wheeler reluctantly handed it to Douglas. "Look, if the sheriff asks how ya got it, you've never been here."

Accepting the note, the investigator thanked the officer and took his leave.

.

Not far from the police station stood the Shepherd House. Which was good, since without his keys, Douglas was on foot. It consisted of a traditional two-floored wooden structure, with an attic and a porch. At the front yard, many children toys were scattered around, like a tricycle and a rubber ball. That led to the conclusion that Mary's older brother, Adam Shepherd, probably had kids. The detective took a mental note on that, as he made it to the house entrance.

Ringing the door bell, he didn't wait much until someone answered it. A bald, middle-aged man, with a white T-shirt and brown military trousers, bearing an face which had a permanent scowl appeared and looked sternly at the visitor.

"Sheriff Shepherd?" the investigator asked.

"Yes. Who are you?" Adam inquired.

"Good afternoon, sheriff. I'm Detective Cartland," he politely introduced himself. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding your sister, Mary Shepherd."

Adam's forehead, which was already furrowed, frowned even more at the mention of this name. "I've already told everything to the police investigators. There's nothing else to say." He proceeded to close the door on the detective.

Douglas, however, promptly held the door open with his hand. Normally, he wouldn't act that bold towards a person he just met, but the investigation outcome was at stake there. "Sorry if I insist, sir. But it's very important."

Feeling affronted by the old man's persistence, the sheriff was about to rant at him. Before that though, someone showed up at the porch's steps. Both men turned their heads to see the newcomer: a teenage boy, no older than fourteen, with short spiky brown hair, carrying a shopping bag.

"Dad, I brought the groceries you..." the boy stopped mid-sentence, noticing the old man in front of his house. "Sorry, are we having a visitor?"

Douglas just smirked gently at him. "Don't mind me, son. I'm just talking to your father about his sister."

To Douglas' surprise, the boy's young face immediately brightened up as he approached the old man. "You mean Aunt Mary?" he asked. "I haven't seen Aunt Mary in ages. How is she?"

His reaction was pretty unexpected to Douglas. Nonetheless before he could reply, Adam intervened in an angry tone. "Alex, go upstairs!"

The boy and the detective looked back at the bald man, a little shocked by his tone. "But, Dad..." the teen tried to retort.

"Go now! I'm not repeating myself!" he ordered louder.

This time, Alex simply lowered his head and headed quietly to his room as told, under the admonishing gaze of his father. On his side, Douglas couldn't understand what the boy had done wrong to deserve such severeness; he had only wondered about a family member long time not seen. Even himself had never treated his deceased son like this. Once the kid was out of sight, the two older men continued their discussion.

"Listen, detective," the retired military spat, although in less angry tone than before (it seemed he had taken it out on his own child, much to Douglas' disapproval). "I don't know who sent you, or what do you want with it, but this is none of you damn business."

"It's going to be just a few quick questions, sheriff. I don't wish to take much of your time," The investigator knew that beating around the bushes wouldn't add anything new to the investigation. He had already learned of the Shepherds' testimony through Frank and, consequently, he would have to ask straight for the still unknown details that Adam might be keeping. "And I promise not to ask anything too personal, but I can assure you I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't of utmost importance."

Adam still seemed pissed and said nothing, however he didn't close the door either. So, Douglas took his action (or lack thereof) as a positive answer... in a way. Maybe he still did care for his sister, despite her marrying against the family's wish.

"After James and Mary's disappearance, have you, or any of your familiars, sighted anybody that could have resembled them?"

"No." The bald man dully shot.

"Even in Silent Hill or the nearby towns?" Douglas asked, while taking notes.

The sheriff showed a faint hint of discomfort at that question, but quickly hid it. "My family never left this town, and I'm sure that I haven't seen my sister or her husband anywhere."

No surprise there, the detective analyzed. Considering his sister's fate, it might have occurred to him that something akin could befall the rest of his family. Fearing it, he probably have become most paranoid to the point of never allowing another family member out of his protection circle again.

"Okay. During their first trip to Silent Hill years ago, did they pay you a visit or something?"

"No, they didn't." The monosyllabic replies Adam was giving showed that his patience was wearing thin, therefore the chat had to be concluded quickly.

"All right. One last question: when was the last time you've seen or been in contact with Mary or James?"

"Not ever since her wedding, when she moved out to Ashfield." His answers were mostly short and straightforward, but filled with a certain intensity that somehow convinced Douglas he wasn't lying. Bitterness wasn't something one could fake that easily.

"That's it. Thanks for your time, sheriff." He finished, pocketing his notepad.

"Just don't bother us with this issue anymore," Adam responded, closing the door. Before shutting it completely though, he let out a last warning. "And don't you dare come back here, or I'll put you in jail." The door finally slammed shut.

Douglas just exhaled a breath and headed off the porch. He was feeling quite frustrated right now. Not because of Adam's attitude. In fact, he had expected that. And he had even managed to confirm a few things from the small chat. One was that Mary's relationship with her family was as strained as Frank had mentioned. Thus certainly James wouldn't have come here. Second, the Shepherds really didn't know anything. Adam could have refused to answer his questions, or lied, but he didn't in the end. While talking to him, Adam's eyes reflected anger, annoyance, yet no falsehood.

He wasn't afraid of Adam's threat either. Being a former cop himself, Douglas knew that the sheriff didn't have any legal ground to arrest him, so that menace was quite hollow. Even further, he considered talking later to that Alex boy (not at home, of course), who seemed to be Mary's nephew and more willing to talk. Even so, considering that the teen was ignorant of his aunt's situation, most likely he didn't know of anything, so it wouldn't help much the investigation.

Speaking of that, the detective was rather bewildered at how harshly Adam treated his son. Of course, it was expected for a former military man to be strict with their children, but... the look Adam bore on his face while speaking to Alex... it was as though he wanted to humiliate him. Almost like, to make the kid's life miserable. Also from his years as a investigator, Douglas had become pretty good at deciphering people's expressions and that was a disturbing possibility to think of. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do for the boy. He had enough problems for now.

What actually frustrated him in the end was the fact that he didn't get anything really useful out of the conversation. And now, it looked like he would have to go to Silent Hill, one way or another. Searching for clues inside an abandoned place wasn't going to be pleasant, but now it was the only thing left to do. So, he made his way back to the station, in order to fetch his car keys and drive to the town across the lake.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Douglas' reference to Leon Kennedy (from the Resident Evil series) may have seemed a bit off, but I like the idea of Douglas, a former cop, being acquainted with Leon, another former cop. Many RExSH crossovers explore this idea, so in order to keep a tie with them, I've made this reference.<strong>**

****I guess a bit of math is also in order here: this fic takes place in the year of 1999, which puts it, according to SH timeline, roughly six years after SH2 (1993), one year before SH3 (2000) and eight years before SHH (2007). The exact time of SH4 is uncertain, but it's reasonable to assume it happened somewhere between SH3 and SHH. Hope it helps the readers to situate the characters' current ages in this fic.****

****Please read & review.****


	3. Wild Goose Chase

**I do not own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 03 – WILD GOOSE CHASE<strong>

Mentally recurring back to the investigation in Ashfield, the next place on Douglas' list after the couple's home had been St Jerome's Hospital, where Mary had been treated. Naturally, the cops had already swept through the entire site as well, so nothing was found there as expected. However, as Frank had suggested, an employee of the hospital, who had been Mary's attending nurse at the time, lived right next to his room. It wouldn't hurt to just have a talk with her. She was a helpful woman and maybe she might even know something.

_Sat at the table in number 106 of South Ashfield Heights, Detective Cartland watched as the room's occupant, a brown-haired woman, brought over a kettle of hot tea. Despite being neighbor to the superintendent, he had decided to do this chat only the two of them, so that she would speak more freely._

"_So, Rachel," the detective begun. "Superintendent Sunderland told me you've nursed Mary during her treatment."_

"_That's right," she answered, pouring some tea in a cup and passing it to him. "Normally, in our line of work, we try not to get too personal with the patients. But Mary... got quite engraved into my memory. She was such a sweet person. At least, in the beginning..."_

"_What happened to her?"_

_Rachel finished pouring tea for herself. "Well, as her illness progressed, she started to get a bit uh... moody. Not that I can blame her, of course. You see, her face got disfigured and, consequently, she became self-conscious to the point of believing her husband would ditch her. That poor thing..."_

"_I was also told that her and James constantly argued whenever he paid a visit."_

"_They did," the nurse nodded. "It was more like she alternated moments of verbal bashing and neediness. I recall hearing her screaming, just to, instants later, change to crying. That'd be hard to cope with, even for a sane person. Because of that, I've noticed James' visits became less and less often."_

"_And how did it go with James when she got released?"_

"_Hmm, can't say for sure, but he looked quite unhappy then," she said with a pensive face. "Almost as though he didn't want her back. But there wasn't much I could do anyway. Mary was in her final days and she'd be better spending them with her husband than in a hospital room."_

_The investigator took notes of everything, of every detail._

"_Did she mention anything about going somewhere? Like in a trip or something?"_

"_Not that I'm aware of," Rachel slowly shook her head. A pause followed, until she made an expression of recalling something. "Unless..."_

"_Unless?" Douglas repeated._

"_I remember that, while hospitalized, Mary seemed to have befriended another patient. A little orphan girl named Laura. She came over during the last weeks of Mary's treatment, but they quickly got attached to each other. Mary often showed pictures and told Laura stories about a special place she had visited."_

"_And you think Mary may have confided to this girl any plans she had?"_

"_It's possible. In my opinion, they got along pretty well for that. In fact, I even recall that Mary left with me a letter to Laura, to be given when the girl got released."_

"_Would you happen to know the letter's content, Rachel?"_

"_Of course not, detective," Rachel stated, a slight scolding tone in her voice. "You know it's against medical ethics to pry into a patient's privacy like this."_

_He held his hands up in apology. It was true, that question was inappropriate. Even so, he continued. "You're right. So, do you know where I can find this Laura girl?"_

_The nurse sighed in frustration. "Unfortunately, no. Believe it or not, Laura ran away of the hospital a few days after Mary's release. Just like James, she' gone missing ever since. Even the letter vanished from my locker as well. I'm sorry, but I can't help you on that."_

"_Another missing person, huh?" Douglas said under his breath._

_For a moment, he considered going after this Laura girl, but since he had more pressing matters to think of, a mental note was made to look about it later. For now, he was at least sure where he'd have to make arrangements to go next._

And there he was, driving along the shoreline of Toluca Lake after the 'pleasant' talk in Shepherd's Glen, towards the 'special place' Mary had referred to. Towards Silent Hill.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Silent Hill, a little later.<strong>**

Silent Hill used to be a nice, quiet little town. Douglas remembered those times when tourists swarmed to Toluca Lake during summer, enjoying the tranquility and the lower prices compared to the oceanic areas. Even himself had already considered spending a vacation there, hadn't it been for the divorce and his son's death.

But that was many years ago, prior to the entire site getting abandoned and becoming practically a ghost town. And, most intriguing, nobody knew exactly the reason why.

Some people claimed that the nearby coal mines had been completely depleted, making the local economy collapse. Reinforcing this theory came also the rumor that Toluca Lake wasn't safe for navigation due to a handful of boat accidents in the past years, so tourism alone couldn't make up for it. Others stated that there had been an underground fire in those same coal mines, rendering the town essentially uninhabitable due to the gas toxicity, and turning it into another Centralia. Some people even theorized that the more conservative townsfolk got tired of so many outsiders around and decided to simply stop attending for them.

And then, there were those (very) few who came up with more strange explanations. By 'strange', the detective meant explanations like the town being... haunted. Things about some devil that watched over Silent Hill and chastised those carried of sins. Stories about some religious groups that chased 'heretics' away. Putting it short, some pretty macabre stuff...

Obviously Douglas thought of this more as a joke than anything. After all, he was an detective, a man of facts. Supernatural didn't stand among his beliefs, as investigators were supposed to keep their minds focused and follow the logic of things. It wasn't going to be a half-ass scary legend that would keep him from doing his job.

Even though not believing in demons, Douglas still had to admit that the town's current state pretty much appeared to be one's work. Whatever the reason, the entire location couldn't look more neglected and desolate than this. The decaying buildings were all boarded up, some even in ruins, the streets displayed cracks with weeds sprouting off them, not to mention the eerie fog that clouded everything and the complete absence of living souls. Yet he wouldn't be surprised if there were any scavengers or hobos lurking around, so only to be sure, he brushed his hand over his holstered gun. A souvenir kept from the police years.

There were two places Frank had suggested him to start searching at, from James' first trip. One used to be a major touristic attraction in Silent Hill, known to many couples as a romantic spot to admire Toluca Lake. James and Mary had spent there a good portion of their trip. Looking at one of the map boards scattered around the town, Douglas learned that Rosewater Park could be reached by following Nathan Avenue, until its closest to the lake.

Trailing said street for awhile, the pound's waters were already on sight. But before he went any further, he stopped short near the crossroad with a certain Caroll Street. Something had caught his eyes: a pamphlet stuck to the wall, near the entrance to a narrow alley. It would have just passed by, hadn't he spotted something familiar about the pamphlet.

On it, there was the picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair and skimpy clothing, and the lines '_The Return of Lady Maria!_' below. Douglas narrowed his eyes, noticing a disturbing thing. Besides the name, this woman on the pamphlet was also the spitting image of Mary, as he compared down the photo the superintendent had lent him (under the condition he'd be very careful with that, given it was one of his last mementos of James). Although the woman's hair color was different, it could have been dyed.

Curiosity besting him, Douglas glanced into the nearby alley and realized a metal stairway leading up to an elevated door. But what drew more of his attention were the burnt out neon lights above the door: in cursive red and purple letters, with a heart for the apostrophe and a star for the dot, it read '_Heaven's Night_'. That was when perception sunk in...

"Oh, lord." The former cop muttered, slightly surprised to stumble upon a night bar of all the places. Obviously Douglas knew better than assuming a conservative (according to Frank) Mary would have anything to do with this place, but still...

Therefore, he tried to give it a check. As he reached the knob though, he noticed the door was locked. For a instant he considered kicking the door open, or even blasting the knob away with a bullet. The building was supposed to be derelict after all, but decided against it in the end. He didn't have the necessary strength to do so, nor wished to call unwanted attention with the shot. Of course, so far he hadn't sighted anyone around, yet there was always the possibility of thugs in hiding.

The resemblance between the dancer and Mary was striking, nonetheless the detective simply shrugged it off and left, as it held no major meaning to the investigation. Maybe the dancer on the announcement was just a lookalike. Mary's facial features weren't that uncommon to begin with and the world was a huge place. There were even those shitty TV programs that exhibited celebrities' lookalikes. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that there was someone out there that looked like her.

However, as he stepped out of the alley, another thing caught Douglas' eyes across the street. In front of another local business that appeared to be a bowling hall, a pizza box lied on a trash pile, barely noticeable. His mind immediately drifted off to another unusual fact he came across during this investigation.

_Browsing into a missing people website, Detective Cartland searched for any knowledge that could complement his on this case. Naturally he had found both James and Mary's files, which Frank had posted there years ago, but nothing that he didn't already know. So far, the search was being rather fruitless._

_Until, while digging in the 1993 section, he clicked on this particular file. It showed the face of a distressed-looking teenage girl, with shoulder-length brown hair._

_'ID: 88956_

_NAME: Angela Orosco_

_GENDER: female_

_AGE: 19 (at the time of disappearance)_

_OCCUPATION: waitress_

_LAST SEEN AT: her family house in Brahms_

_ADDICIONAL INFO: suspect of murder, after her father was found stabbed to death at the family house. Last spotted leaving the house, reported by a neighbor. Her car was found parked in the outskirts of Silent Hill.'_

_Silent Hill. That was the name that seemed to pursue him everywhere. This Angela girl had gone missing around the same time as James and her car had been found, of all the places, in Silent Hill. Could it be a coincidence? Just for the record, James' car has never been found, still it was weirdly coincidental._

_Moving on to other files, another familiar name met the detective's eyes. The attached picture consisted of a blond little girl's, her hair tied in a ponytail._

_'ID: 89331_

_NAME: Laura (no surname)_

_GENDER: female_

_AGE: 8 (at the time of disappearance)_

_OCCUPATION: none_

_LAST SEEN AT: St. Jerome's Hospital, Ashfield_

_ADDICIONAL INFO: resident at Ashfield Orphanage, was hospitalized in St. Jerome's, from where went missing near the end of the treatment. No further details known.'_

_So this was the girl that Rachel had mentioned. Talk about coincidences. For a moment, Douglas pondered how a little girl, with no knowledge or resources, could have gone missing, leaving no trace behind. Very strange too, but the next file surprisingly held the answer. This one displayed the picture of an over-weighted young man, with short blond hair and a cap._

_'ID: 89502_

_NAME: Eddie Dombrowski_

_GENDER: male_

_AGE: 23 (at the time of disappearance)_

_OCCUPATION: gas-station attendant_

_LAST SEEN AT: Smitty's Restaurant, at Brahms Gas & Services_

_ADDICIONAL INFO: accused of murder attempt, after shooting a classmate in the knee and killing the latter's dog. Last spotted driving a white van, in a roadside restaurant, where had a pizza ordered. A blond young girl, physically matching profile n.89331, had also been spotted accompanying him. His vehicle was found parked in the outskirts of Silent Hill.'_

Douglas couldn't avoid feeling perplexed at how things connected. Not only the pizza box, which surprisingly had the Smitty's logo on it. But also because of how coincidental it was, that three people had gone missing almost at the same time, in the same town as James and Mary. What were the odds?

Besides, he also had suspected from the beginning that Laura had gone to Silent Hill, maybe in search for Mary, maybe because she wanted to see this 'special place' Mary had spoken so much of. And if this Eddie guy had given her a ride, perhaps that was the way she had managed to go so far without anyone knowing. Nonetheless, he also felt a bit of concern as well. Eddie looked a quite messed up person, he was armed and being accused of murder attempt. Due to that, there was the remote, yet tangible possibility that he might have killed Laura and came to Silent Hill in order to dispose of the body. Maybe that was the reason why Laura went missing, and if positive, it meant she was already a lost part. Chasing after her would have eventually come to a dead end, he feared. His plans of tracking her down later on appeared to have just fallen through.

Whether it really happened or not, Douglas concluded it'd better not to get sidetracked. His hands were already full chasing after two missing people and adding three more to his list was simply out of question. Possibly, if he insisted on this, he would end up finding clues that would lead to more clues, and then more clues, and then more. Complications would grow up exponentially like a rolling snowball. So he just decided to stick to the task at hand and stride to his original destination.

Nevertheless, he just found it fishy how convenient things had turned out to cover for the couple's disappearance: his strained relationship with his father, hers with the Shepherd family, the trio of potential witnesses Laura, Angela and Eddie going missing (or dead)... practically everything that could have led to the truth had been setback, somehow.

It was almost as if... some sort of superior force wanted nobody to unveil what truly happened to James and Mary.

.

Upon arriving at the famed park, the first things to be noticed were the bricked structures, alternated with hedges. Furthermore, after a careful scouting, Douglas also found the bust of Jennifer Caroll, the town's patron saint, and a broken statue of Patrick Chester, a hero of the past. However, none of this interested him. What he was looking for were signs of recent human activity, anyone to whom he could pose questions.

Nothing came though, leaving him frustrated. So he started wandering off for any other clues, for anything that would light a lamp. At last, he halted at a sort of observation deck over the lake. From the superintendent's old photo, he recognized the waterfront fence. It was probably the spot where the photo had been taken.

After some musing, Douglas approached the middle of the fence and resorted to an old detective trick. It consisted in getting into the person's mind, i.e., trying to reproduce the victim's (or the criminal's) steps, by scrutinizing the surroundings and imagining the possible interactions. He speculated James would have followed the same itinerary from his last trip to Silent Hill. Therefore, he proceeded to lean on the fence and put his deduction skills to work.

'I am James Sunderland,' he pretended to be in James' stead. 'I am spending a honeymoon trip with my wife. We are right now admiring the lake and taking pictures. What would we do next?'

He stared at the abandoned hot dog stall near the fence. 'Maybe buy ourselves some lunch. And then?'

His eyes moved to the sightseeing scopes attached to the fence. He fetched a dime out of his wallet and inserted it in the nearest scope, activating it. Another oddity, considering it shouldn't have gone through proper maintenance for awhile. He could even hear the rusty cogs turning and rustling inside the device.

Anyway, the old man bent over the eyepiece and peeked through it. He shifted the scope left and right, scanning the landscape and trying to distinguish anything through the dense fog covering the lake. Finally, across the lake, he managed to sight a three-floored building, with a large garden and a small dock at front. Above the door, there was a sign. The letters were small and blurred due to the distance and the mist, but Douglas still could clearly read: '_Lakeview Hotel_'.

It was the place where James and Mary had vacationed last time. That was the one other place the superintendent had suggested him to investigate.

'Our hotel is on the other side of the town,' he continued his fictional scenario. 'It is quite a walk till there, so we'd better go back now. And we would walk along the shore, so we can admire the view.'

He begun leaving the park, carrying himself in a slower pace than he usually would. James and Mary were newlyweds, thus Douglas assumed James certainly would have tried to match his wife's pace in the stroll. Before it, however, he took one last glance at the waters bathing the park, resuming his path soon afterwards. He had just wanted to make sure there was nothing in there, in the very unlikely chance James had drowned in Toluca Lake.

.

Lakeview Hotel stood in reasonably good shape. He had heard stories about it being burned down, but luckily it seemed to be only a hoax... except for the obvious fact it was entirely deserted as the rest of the town.

Entering the lobby, the detective headed straight to the reception counter. He was looking for the guestbook. The missing couple hadn't been there long before Silent Hill got shut down, so their names might still be registered in the book. As expected, they were.

'James and Mary Sunderland. Room 312,' he memorized.

He was about to go upstairs, when he noticed an odd piece of furniture in the center of the room. Normally, he would have ignored it, but just like that pamphlet at Heaven's Night, something 'hooked' his attention. The furniture resembled an old grandpa clock, although looking quite new and functional compared to its surroundings. He reached for a handle on the side of the furniture and cranked it. For his surprise, a tune begun playing, while a small merry-go-round spun at the bottom. It was not a clock, but a themed music box.

Douglas stopped for a few instants to listen to the tune. It was beautiful, but creepy at the same time. It passed a feeling of both innocence and haunting simultaneously, a perfect balance of comfort and eerie. Which sensation would prevail, it depended on the listener's current mind frame. Akin to... judging the person's soul.

After these philosophical moments, the investigator turned back to the master staircase in the area and headed up to the room.

Room 312 was a rather large one, besides being very bright, thanks to the huge glass doors leading to the balcony. A king size bed, a desk, three armchairs with a coffee table and a small TV composed the furniture. Indeed a very comfy room to spend vacation in, nevertheless nothing out of ordinary... except for a VCR placed next to the TV, with a cassette tape sticking out. Someone must have forgotten it there. Douglas knelt by and examined it closer. It had a thin layer of dust over it, implying it had been there long enough. Carefully he brushed off the dust, in order to not get any of it into the equipment. So, with his thumb, he pushed the tape in, turned on the TV and hoped the VCR was still working.

Fortunately, it was. His eyes shifted towards the screen, whilst only static was being displayed. It lasted only for a few seconds, as the image got clearer.

"Are you taping again?" a woman in the video asked, coming into view. "Come on!" she playfully scolded, sitting on a chair facing a window. Douglas immediately recognized her as Mary, and the background as the room he was right now.

It was unbelievable! Simply unbelievable! Of all the things to find, of all the people that tape could have belonged to, it was a record of Mary Shepherd-Sunderland!

The video played on. "I don't know why, but I just love it here. So peaceful," she said in admiration, staring through the window. "You know what I heard?" she asked the unseen camera holder, smiling at them. "This _whole_ area used to be a sacred place".

She turned her head back to the window, resuming her contemplation. "I think I can see why. It's too bad we have to leave," Next, she stood up and approached the camera holder. "Please, promise you'll take me again, James." In this instant, however, the sweet smile she had on her face faded and she started coughing violently. The video then begun flickering.

Douglas watched it in stupor. Having a remaining video record of James and Mary all those years later was nothing short of miraculous. Perhaps he had found what he was looking for. He could finally discover what happened and where the missing couple was, after all this time.

His focus went back to the TV, when a new picture came on screen. This footage though, didn't have as much quality as the previous one. It was static-laden and soundless, resembling a surveillance camera. Nonetheless, he still could distinguish the figure of Mary, lying in bed, and how her appearance had changed. Due to the illness, she had visibly lost a lot of weight and her face was severely disfigured, not resembling her cheerful self from before in the slightest. Maybe this footage might have been shot from some sort of security system James had installed in Mary's room. The figure of said husband came into view and bent over Mary, gently kissing her on the forehead. They seemed to talk about something, but Douglas couldn't pick up what.

What he saw next, however, left him thunderstruck. Despite the faltering between the two tapes, he still could grasp what was going on. James suddenly yanked the pillow beneath his wife's head and forced it over her face. Her fragile frame attempted to struggle against it, but she was too weak for that. In the end, her body stopped moving, just as the video cut to permanent static.

The old detective was silent, his body stiffened in shock at what he just watched. In fact, shock didn't even begin to describe it. He was utterly horrified, and this wasn't an easy feat for a man hardened by years of harsh experiences. James was a murderer! He had killed his own wife!

It took awhile, but after the shock subsided and rationality returned, a paled Douglas sat himself at the armchair in front of the TV. For what seemed like hours, he pondered and pondered again.

First off, was this video reliable? He heeded it strange that the cassette tape rested right there, untouched till now, just waiting for first one around to get it. How the police investigators hadn't been able to find it before, he had absolutely no idea. And the constant image shifts raised the suspicion of being a montage. Maybe it was someone's sick prank. Or better, he hoped it to be a prank. However, observing it closer, the facts contradicted his assumption. That tape was an old, non-rewritable brand and there were no stitches either, which meant it couldn't have been overwritten (at least not in its entirety) nor edited in any way.

Yet, they still could be impostors posing as James and Mary in the video. But, if they were, who would make the effort to fake Mary's death, frame her husband as the culprit and bring the proof all the way to an abandoned hotel in a abandoned town? The Shepherds, who were against the marriage? Nah, Adam didn't seem the sneaky type; if he had real problems with the couple, surely he would have used a more 'direct' approach than this. Then who?

In addition, James wasn't wealthy nor high in status either, so why the waste of resources? None of this made any sense. Ergo the only possible response: the video was the genuine thing and James was indeed guilty. The idea might have sounded ridiculous had he not seen it with his own eyes.

Next, came the reasons for the murder. That was the great enigma. Little by little, Douglas connected the dots to come out with a conclusion: Frank had claimed James was very depressed, with drinking problems and occasional outbursts. Rachel had confirmed James' depression and also stated he did not wish her wife back at all when she got released from the hospital. Could it mean, he was so messed up that wanted to get rid of her? Did he feel himself hindered by his wife and decided to take his life back?

But if that was the case, could he live with it? Would he be able to cope with the fact that he had killed the most important person in his life? Both James and Mary had practically only each other, given their rather strained relationship with their respective families. Unless they were some kind of pathological homicide, a normal person wouldn't kill their beloved one and simply live on like nothing. No matter what, James wasn't a monster, and Douglas knew it from his profile analysis. Like the police investigators had assumed, James probably had committed suicide. That reinforced the video authenticity too, as suicides were known for leaving behind records of their reasons, like letters or videos.

Suffice to say, these certainly weren't good news to give to his client.

Even worse, how would Frank react if he learned his son died as a murderer, a criminal? Douglas could way too well relate to that. The memory of his own son being shot robbing a bank still lingered fresh in his mind. Would he dare to bring more distress to an old man's already distraught mind?

Slowly, the investigator stood up and took the videotape out of the VCR. While heading off to the hotel's exit, he racked his brains about what to report.

To finalize, the last enigma crossed his head as he walked through the hallways. That little issue regarding three people, who might have committed murder, being drawn towards Silent Hill at the same time. Could it be... suddenly the story about curses and devils didn't sound so absurd at all.

Anyway, Douglas had to admit. Silent Hill was one screwed up town.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Smitty's roadside restaurant hails from the SH movie. The idea of Eddie giving Laura a ride to Silent Hill came from the game's intro (the scene where she kicks him while he's sat by the van). I also had some inspiration from the fanfic "The Circus is Coming to Town" by Tony Branston, so I'm giving the author his rightful credits too. I'd recommend his fic as a complement to this one.<strong>**

****For those who don't know, Centralia is a real-life ghost town located in the state of Pennsylvania and it became deserted due to an underground fire still burning up to date. It had been the inspiration for the SH movie, so I thought it might be one of the many rumors about why Silent Hill had been shut down.****


	4. Deception

**I do not own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 04 – DECEPTION<strong>

"I see," said a rather disappointed Frank. "You didn't find them."

Douglas just nodded, genuinely sorry for the superintendent. "I'm sorry, Frank. But it's passed so many years since. There wasn't much hope from the beginning."

An uncomfortable silence filled in Room 105 of South Ashfield Heights. Mr. Sunderland had an upset expression on his face, while he processed everything that had been talked. Finally, he broke the quietness.

"Well, I suppose this closes the case then." Fetching his wallet out of his pocket, he continued. "How much do I owe you?"

At that question, the detective only held up his hand, dismissively. "Save your money, Frank. You owe me nothing."

"Excuse me?" the older man asked, a bit surprised at the investigator's refusal.

"It's just fair trade," Douglas retorted. "I couldn't find your son, so it wouldn't be fair if I charged you."

Nevertheless, Frank insisted on. "Are you sure, detective? This whole investigation took a hell lot of your time."

Douglas sighed before he told his reasons. It was personal, yet somehow he thought his client deserved to learn. "You know, Frank, I shouldn't be telling you this, but I'm also a father. And like you, my son's also long gone from my life."

That last statement rendered Frank speechless. For moments, the superintendent didn't know what to say and, given his silence, Douglas reluctantly continued on. "I know what is like to have a child taken from you, and that was the reason I took your case in first place. I thought I could help you with your son, but unfortunately I was wrong. As such, if I accepted your money, I'd be betraying myself as a father."

Frank managed a faint smile, putting the wallet back into his pocket. He was happy that there was someone who understood his pain. However, at the same time, he still grieved the loss. If even Douglas, a detective with more than genuine reasons to bring James back, couldn't do it, no one else could. Most likely, James and Mary were lost forever.

Douglas produced a small card from his coat pocket and handed it to Frank, who took and eyed it.

"There is my psychiatrist's address," the investigator explained. "Good doctor helped me through the years after my son's death. Tell him I recommended you, and he'll gladly aid you. In addition, I wrote my personal number on the back. If you need anything, _anything_, feel free to contact me."

As the older man thanked him, Douglas stood up from the couch and put on his hat. "I think this is goodbye then, Frank."

The superintendent simply nodded in parting, but didn't escorted his guest to the door, instead remaining sat on the armchair. In the doorway, just about to leave, the former cop looked back once more at his former client.

"I'm pretty sure your son's still out there. One day, you'll see him again." He assured, before opening and closing the door soon afterwards.

Outside the room, Douglas sighed half in relief, half in distaste. It went better than he had expected, nonetheless it still held a bitter taste reporting this kind of outcome. As walking towards the exit, he was almost sure the superintendent was silently crying behind that door, deep in sorrow. It bothered him as a father not being able to do anything else for the distraught older man.

Besides, what bothered his conscience the most was the fact he had actually lied to Frank.

He remembered that tape found in Lakeview Hotel, and the horrible truth it had unveiled. After that, the investigator consumed an extra handful of days around Silent Hill, looking out for any other clues that would contradict that revelation. Something that he could have overlooked, but it had been futile in the end. The former cop had even considered mentioning the other missing individuals whose names he came across in the meantime, but what was the point? Three missing people in Silent Hill meant only three missing people in Silent Hill, and unless he proved some sort of connection between their disappearances and James', that was all.

He wasn't better off than when he had started. So, with no more proofs to back up his investigation, the tape was the sole thing he had left to show.

He didn't want to, however. In his judgement, it would bring more harm than good to Mr. Sunderland if he ever learned of his son's deeds. He could relate to that himself, as not a single day went by that he didn't think of what happened to his own boy. Douglas has never been one to blame life for throwing shit at him, but the position he was put in looked much like mockery from fate. For many hours prior to his reporting, he sat undecided about what choice to make.

Finally, after carefully weighting down the alternatives, he ended up choosing the lesser evil. Before calling off the investigation, Douglas had resorted to destroy that tape.

Inwardly, he was quite ashamed with himself. Outright lying and destroying proofs, almost things that a criminal would have done. Had anyone got a word of this, his reputation would be over. Despite his good intentions, the detective mulled over the righteousness of what he had just done, whether he wasn't only making excuses. He pondered if it would have been better not knowing what had happened to his own son, taking the boy for missing instead of dead. Would it have consoled him more at the time?

Anyway, what was done was done and sulking wasn't going to make things any better. Douglas could only hope Frank would eventually overcome his son's absence and live on.

.

Unlike Douglas supposed, although, Superintendent Sunderland wasn't crying. Sad, yes, but not crying. The moment the detective left, he got up from the armchair and walked up to the shelf. Pulling one of its drawers out, he searched among the objects within until finding a particular one: a small box.

Taking off the lid, inside the box lied a cloth with brownish-red stains, resembling coagulated blood. It didn't take long to the nasty odor invade the old man's nostrils, yet he didn't seem to bother at all. Umbilical cords weren't expected to smell like flowers, especially one this aged. Frank could still remember that night nearly thirty years ago when he had found this abandoned baby in South Ashfield Heights' Room 302 and, taking him to the hospital later, opted to keep the bloody appendage.

In normal circumstances, the idea of keeping someone's umbilical cord in his room for all those years might have labeled him as a total nutcase, not to mention gross. This was a trait he and his son shared actually, as he recalled that James had the nasty habit of never washing his hands whenever he touched something filthy.

Nevertheless, on that particular night, Frank had what people would call an... epiphany. A deep, strong sensation that he shouldn't throw the cord away, that he'd be glad later on for that. He couldn't explain exactly why, but the feeling was that of something... or someone... whispering into his very mind, claiming that the appendage would be of great importance futurely. Therefore he chose to heed the advice and store it.

It hadn't been until a few weeks back that he took note of the cord again.

.

_Finally hopeless of seeing his son again, the superintendent started packing James' old stuff in his room. Every time he saw them, painful memories of his missing son returned, so he decided they'd better be gone, perhaps given to donations. While rummaging through the shelf, he stumbled upon that very same box, which, as a matter of fact, wasn't smelling nice. Not recalling why he was still keeping it in first place, he just absentmindedly put it in the trash._

_On the same night, he went to bed early, tired of both the cleaning and the related emotional stress. Parting away with a child's mementos was always hard._

_As he slowly drifted into sleep, a strange vision came to him. He found himself in a pitch dark place, with no walls, no ceiling, only the floor beneath his feet._

"_Dad!" called suddenly a familiar male voice._

"_James?" Frank asked, trying to spot the voice owner among the blackness. "James, is that you?"_

"_Dad, why did you throw it away?" the voice repeated, its owner remaining unseen. "Don't throw it away!"_

"_Throw away what?" the father asked, confused._

"_The box!" replied James' voice. "You shouldn't have thrown it away!"_

_The last remark made the old man even more confused. "The umbilical cord? But why would I keep that thing?"_

"_You're going to need it, Dad! The Receiver of Wisdom is going to need it!"_

_'Receiver of Wisdom'? Now what the heck he was talking about?_

"_Son, I don't think I'm understanding..." Frank retorted._

"_You have to get it back, Dad! The Receiver of Assumption is coming! Your life and the others' will be in danger!" the voice finished, falling mute afterwards._

"_James? JAMES?" the superintendent shouted for his son, complete silence being the only reply._

_In a bolt, Frank awakened off his slumber. He looked around and realized to be in his room. It was only a dream, but still it seemed so real._

_'Receiver of Wisdom'? 'Receiver of Assumption'? His life in danger? What kind of nonsense was that? Was it really James he was talking to? He brushed slightly his eyes, trying to sort out his thoughts, when something abruptly registered._

_'The umbilical cord!' he remembered of a sudden and frantically rushed up to the trash container outside the building. Although not fully understanding what his son meant (or if it had any meaning at all), somehow he had a feeling that the dream had some truth on it. The appendage must be retrieved, so he silently hoped that the garbage truck hadn't passed yet._

_Luckily, it hadn't. Opening up the garbage bag inside the container, he found the smelly little box still there and fetched it back, relieved._

.

It was bizarre, but as much as it sounded crazy, that vision renewed his hopes that James was alive somewhere. That was what made him call on Detective Cartland in first place. And even if the investigation had resulted in naught, he still nourished the tiny, little hope that him, his son and his daughter-in-law would be reunited one day.

He just wished his child would have been more clearly about that message in the dream.

"One day, James. One day..." he nostalgically mused, putting the box back in the drawer.

.

It was nighttime. Back at home, after these many days of investigation, Douglas was utterly beat. The distress of dealing with Frank had also added to his fatigue, so he wanted nothing else than a bed and a good night of sleep.

And leaving all of it behind.

That was when, while pulling the car into his estate, he noticed a blond woman awaiting in front of his door. As he stepped out of his car and approached her, her features could be better distinguished. She appeared to be in her late twenties, clad in a long dark dress and, oddly enough, wore no shoes and had no eyebrows. At first, Douglas thought she was a beggar or a loony, and was about to dismiss her, when she acknowledged his presence.

"Detective Cartland, I presume?" she asked, in a cold voice.

"Uh yes," he replied, a tad surprised that she knew his name and address, as most of his contacts were made via phone. "May I help you, lady?"

"I have an assignment for you." She said, never changing her serious (and creepy) demeanor.

As stated, Douglas was tired, yet he remained professional. "Please come back in the morning, okay? We'll discuss this then."

So he proceeded to enter his house, when the woman interceded. "It's very important. My sister is missing!"

That caught the old man's attention. Another missing person's case? Another lost family member? What was happening to this world, for that matter? Of course, that put food on his table, but the way things were, it was almost as though mankind itself was driving towards ultimate chaos!

He carefully examined the mysterious woman: her stoic and eyebrow-less face made it hard to read her expression, so he couldn't say for sure if she was telling the truth or not. Nevertheless, he decided to listen what she had to say.

"Come on in," he beckoned her to enter. "Tell me more about it."

.

One year. That was approximately how long Detective Cartland has been working on this case, by far the lengthiest he had ever accepted. He didn't complain, nonetheless. His client, Claudia Wolf, was paying well after all.

Since a few weeks back, the investigation ceased being a search, turning into mere observation. After months of careful and patient work, the investigation subject, a teenage girl named Alessa Gillespie and supposedly Claudia's missing sister, had finally been found in a district town of Ashfield, living with her supposed captor, a man called Harry Mason.

According to Claudia, this Harry guy had kidnapped Alessa twelve years ago in the city of Portland and made the girl believe he was her father. A case of Stockholm Syndrome, his client alleged. It also seemed that they had changed their original names, in order to keep themselves hidden. Currently, Harry Mason and Alessa Gillespie answered by the aliases of Harry and Heather Morris, respectively.

Right now, the detective found himself in the local mall, tailing Heather and bidding his time, just waiting for the right opportunity to approach her. He hated doing it though. It made him feel like a creep, stalking a young girl like that. Even so, he knew it was necessary. Ever since that last case with Frank Sunderland, Douglas had decided, with sharpened resolve, that he had enough with broken families. It was now almost a matter of honor to retrieve Alessa back to her rightful family.

That way he would at least start making up for his previous failures.

Despite that, the former cop still sensed there was something wrong about this case. For starters, that woman Claudia looked a bit suspicious. She had the papers proving that Alessa was her adopted (yet legitimate) sister, and a few photos of her and Alessa had been shown as additional proof. Even so, call it foreboding or anything, his guts kept nagging that there was something Claudia wasn't telling him. That woman unsettled him somehow. Her papers seemed in order, but Claudia had made it a rule: no talking to the girl. He was hired only to find her, she stated.

Why that? He was a detective, for crying out loud; talking to other people was part of his job. Claudia was also pretty adamant on getting Alessa back, almost to the point of obsession. This, and the fact her expressions couldn't be read disturbed him to no end.

His musings were cut off when he saw Heather leaving a Happy Burger restaurant towards the nearest pay phone. Her hair color mismatched Alessa's, but at spotting the dark roots, one could guess she had dyed blond, maybe to enhance her disguise.

He discretely followed her and watched as she dialed a number, probably Harry's. From afar, he waited until she finished the call, picking up snippets of the conversation meanwhile. The sweet tone she spoke although, confused even more Douglas. That wasn't the tone someone unhappy would use. Once again, the investigator pondered if he was doing the right thing.

When she finally hung up, Heather seemed to have noticed his presence and gestured to the phone, presuming he wished to use it. As he dismissively shook his head, the girl shrugged it off and took her leave.

Before she left, however, Douglas called her over. He needed to talk to her. He needed to settle things up once and for all.

The old detective just hoped he wouldn't end up regretting it.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Well, that's it for the first installment of Silent Hill Reminiscence, folks. From this point on, it starts the canon of SH3, with which you're already familiar.<strong>**

****Thanks for reading! Please check out on my profile for the second installment of Silent Hill Reminiscence: Officer Wheeler.****


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